Cold Masks
by vvheel
Summary: Tragedy befalls their entire worlds. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Perhaps, the road to heaven is paved with bad ones. Inspired by "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood. RussLiech. Rated M for violence and sexuality.
1. The Tragedy of Heroes

_Title: Cold Masks_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._

_Inspiration: "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood_

_Pairing: RussiaxLiechtenstein_

_Rating: M for graphic violence, language, and sexuality_

* * *

The Tragedy of Heroes

When Liechtenstein was younger, Switzerland had told her never to believe in heroes. Every hero, he said, is only a cloak that surrounds a coward.

Liechtenstein let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her hands felt clammy, even after she'd removed her gloves and exposed them to the cool weather. Her gloves were bunched up carelessly in one of her coat pockets as she stood outside the large building in Berlin. She'd been waiting for Vash for half an hour and he was never one to be late. Other countries, young and old, passed by her without heed as she checked her watch. It was nearly 11 in the morning at the meeting would only last a short time. A few minutes passed and Vash arrived, his expression grim. Without word, Liechtenstein followed him inside. Her oxford heels tapped lightly against the marble floors until they reached a carpeted hallway that led to the meeting room. Her brother held the door for her and she took her normal seat towards the end of the table, opposite the major countries.

She could sense the tension thick in the air. In the past month, nearly every major country had two or three terrorist attacks. They were mysterious bombings in very crowded places. The world news was running hectic, as one of France's major news networks has been a target. Every country looked completely worn out. She couldn't blame them. When your country was destroyed by some sort of terrorist attack or war, your body was left with scars same as your land and people. Nobody brought them up or showed them to anyone, but every country had scars of some sort. Liechtenstein was left with a few from World War II, though she was nothing compared to countries like Russia and China.

This was the first meeting she'd ever been to that didn't end up with Germany screaming at Italy. Both sat silently staring at the screens on their desks. Liechtenstein didn't honestly understand the point of the meeting. It was like the terrorists were ghosts. No evidence or suspects of any kind were discovered and every major country in North America and Eurasia (aside from Switzerland) had been attacked. Silence engulfed the meeting as the countries focused on their screens. After some time, Germany stood from his cushioned chair and announced that all borders should increase their security tenfold. No country argued with his proposition, not even Vash. Though they were neutral, Vash and Liechtenstein could see no problem in increasing border patrol, save for the border between their countries, as it wasn't even manned. Another silence passed after the countries voted for Germany's proposition and the meeting was adjourned. Liechtenstein looked around her in disappointment. In these times, a country shouldn't be so easy to give up. Then again, she felt a hypocrite thinking that. If not for Vash, she would've died after World War II. He'd found her in an alley of all places. She also wasn't in their position. The terrorist attacks hadn't occurred near her, except for one in Austria. The older pianist was taking this terrible situation with poise and grace, as he did with everything.

Vash opened an umbrella when they reached the stairs outside the building, as it had started to rain. She walked close to him, so that they could share. She was wringing her gloves between her hands nervously, her stomach hurting from the intense emotions that surrounded the meeting. They passed by America, a usually energetic country. He was talking to his boss, lost in an argument over how to go about controlling certain borders. Such a large country would run into some trouble having complete control over their large borders. Once in their compartment on the train ride home, Vash stared out the window and Liechtenstein let out a little sniffle as tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away before her brother could see.

He didn't look away from the window. "Why are you crying, Liechtenstein?"

She hid the surprise on her face as she looked at him across the compartment. "Their faces...they all looked completely destroyed..."

In an uncharacteristic gesture, Vash leaned towards her and looked into her eyes. "You don't know any of these men and women. What they're going through is nothing new to them. Some of them have been fighting wars for years. They've given each other those terrible scars beneath their uniforms. That's why they never talk about them. You have been through a lot and you're so smart, Lilly, but you are still so innocent, too innocent to understand these other countries. In all honesty, I'd rather you stay this way, but I can't shelter you forever. What did I tell you that day I explained the difference between heroes and the mighty to you?"

Liechtenstein pulled her gloves back on, the tears on her face already drying. Vash's words were hard for him to say, but he meant them truly. "Never weep for the mighty."

"Never weep for the mighty." Vash leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms. "They do not need your tears."

The train sped on into the dusky horizon, across mountains, valleys, and meadows as far as the eye could see.

* * *

The dull of pain in Russia's side was nothing new to him, though he didn't think he'd have such fresh scars so soon. It had been a long time since he'd felt the throbbing pain of an injury. He did his best to keep the grimace off his face. He was not to show any pain or weakness in front of these fools. The countries around him had the mix of pain and depression writing plainly on their face. He wouldn't allow himself to lower to them. Keeping his face blank proved the best option, as his unmasked scowl only caused fear and his masked smile was inappropriate for the timing. He'd been alone in the secluded room of his house when he'd felt the equivalent of a bullet in his side and nearly cried out. His lip has bled from the force of biting it in order to keep quiet. Some of his housekeeping staff nearly jumped at the sight of him trudging down the carpeted hallways of his home, shirt half-soaked in blood as a small trail dripped from his mouth.

He was tapping at the screen in front of him, surveying the damage of Belorussky Station. Luckily, security officers had shot down two bombers when they spotted the wires beneath their coats. If their third companion had not triggered his explosion so early, causing the other two to choose haste over concealment, the damage would've been significantly worse. Simultaneously, he was attempting to contact his boss. Understandably, he got no reply, as the incident at Belorussky Station had occurred only yesterday and his boss was most likely swamped. Russia sighed, for a while there he thought that maybe he'd be spared of the chaos of a terrorist attack. That was dangerous thinking, as most certainly he'd be blamed for the incidents if he was the only major European country spared aside from Switzerland, whose sparing was to be expected. Though he'd been rather good since the fall of the USSR, his smile did not completely hide his true nature from his fellow countries.

Russia pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as the awkward silence filled the room once again. Finally, at the head of the table, Germany stood and announced his simplistically foolish plan to increase border control. Terrorism was much more complicated that sneaking across borders, Russia knew, but he refrained from objecting when the vote was called. He understood that Germany was just thinking of the most agreeable option that every country would agree to in order to just leave the meeting and solve their own personal problems with their bosses. Russia wanted nothing more than to be drinking with his boss as they discussed necessary steps to increase local security. He didn't have time for these pitiful meetings as if they were all some big family.

When the meeting was adjourned, Russia phoned his boss once more and finally connected. He spoke in Russian all the way to the airport. Every train station in Eastern Europe had been shut down in response to the bombings in Russia, so he was forced to take a plane home. He stared out the window as the plane took off, cell phone back in his suitcase. He steepled his hands and leaned his elbows on his thighs. Most likely he would be stuck with some shaky stewardess offering him cheap alcohol. He declined her as soon as she walked near him. Her expression was nearly thankful when he politely requested in his broken English to be left alone for the duration of the flight.

He flipped open a book that he'd bought from the airport, a Crichton novel he'd attempted to read multiple times. His eyes trailed the words, but his mind was too focused on the situations at hand. He wondered if he should place any military actions, although that seemed pointless as neither of his sisters were attacked and most other countries had large enough militaries or simply wouldn't want his help. For some reason, not totally unjustified, it was a common fear that Russia would require some sort of payment for helping you out, or that he would simply occupy you completely. He closed the book, giving up once again, and stared out the window for the duration of the 2 and a half hour trip.

Once home, he shrugged off his coat and hung it up, standing in the loneliness that was now his home. Even Belarus had left him, though he didn't completely despise that fact. He was glad he didn't have to lock his bedroom door anymore. Standing in his den by the fireplace relaxed him and a large, shaggy dog greeted him. Dog was the only companion that he needed. His smiled slightly. Dog was such a ridiculous name, but he was no creative man and it seemed only fit to name it "Dog", an English word. The commands were still in Russian, but the large dog was a trooper and took the tough training with pride. He pet Dog's head and found himself able to actually read his book as he sat by the fireplace.

The fire had died out by the time he woke up, his neck sore from falling asleep in a chair. He was just about to change his bandages and head to his bedroom upstairs when he heard a knock at the door. He groggily opened it to see a shaking man in a military uniform.

"Sir, I apologize for waking you. I was given orders from Mr. Putin to inform you that there have been another series of bombings." the man spoke in shaky Russian.

Russia allowed him inside and offered him coffee before listening to the man divulge all the details to him. He waited patiently for the older man's reply.

Finally, after some time and deep thought, Russia turned to the shaking young man and spoke to him in Russian.

"Schedule a meeting with Putin, Shoigu, and Gerasimov immediately. I won't take no for a reply."

* * *

To be continued.

Author's Note: Each chapter will be split between Liechtenstein and Russia's POVs. Some will occur at the same time (such as this one) and some will be chronological. This chapter, unfortunately, lacks any Russia and Liechtenstein interaction, but that will change very soon. My focus on Liechtenstein's POVs is more daydreaming and descriptive thinking, while Russia's is far more grounded in reality and darkness.

Please review, I'm very interested in what you think! xx

- MooseCanoe


	2. Instincts and Motivations

**Title: Cold Masks**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Inspiration: "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood**

**Pairing: RussiaxLiechtenstein**

**Rating: M for graphic violence, language, and sexuality**

* * *

Instincts and Motivations

Ten hours on a train was never good for one's back. Liechtenstein followed her brother outside the train station to their home on the border of their countries. On both sides, small, scattered villages lay, quiet and sleepy with the nighttime. Vash took her suit case in his hand as she knocked on the front door. A small, homely old woman answered, delighted with their return. She scolded Vash for the weaponry she found scattered about his study. Though he looked annoyed, he took her scoldings with pride as he cared for Frau Kirsch dearly. They both did. Frau Kirsch was a tough old bird. She took their suitcases with grace and handed them to two women who carried them to their respected rooms. Liechtenstein untied the bow wrapped around her chin that held her hat in place and placed the delicately made accessory onto a hat rack. She strode to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water before heading to the living room to do some much-needed sewing.

As she threaded her needle, Vash joined her, sighing tiredly as he sat in his favored chair. He watched the flames dance in the fireplace, a habit of his that helped him think. They discussed the day's meeting and she nodded in agreement with each proposal he made for how securing the border would work. She rarely had any objections to Vash's ideas, not because she was afraid to challenge him, but simply because they thought alike. She set the skirt she had been sewing aside, done for the night, and bid her brother goodnight before heading to her room.

Once alone, she locked her door and undressed out of her magenta satin dress and hung it up. She pulled a white cotton nightgown over her head and placed a folded pair of black cotton and polyester pants on her dresser (just in case she got cold) before slipping underneath the covers. The clock struck midnight as she closed her eyes.

Liechtenstein woke to see Frau Kirsch standing over her bed, a candle in hand. She blinked groggily, as she had only been asleep for two hours. The older woman whispered again in German, "Get dressed as decently as you can, child. Something has happened and your brother has gone, but his soldiers are here."

She woke up immediately after hearing this. Her brother didn't like to leave her without bidding her farewell personally, so it must have been a very dire situation. With regards to haste, Liechtenstein slipped on the black pants on her dresser and tucked her cotton nightgown into it loosely before pulling on one of her forest green military jackets. Frau Kirsch dragged her from the room just as she had pulled on a pair of black hiking boots. They walked down the grand staircase to see a group of Swiss soldiers talking harshly to each other. The panic in their voices worried her.

"Fraulein Zwingli, your brother has commanded that we guard you. There has been a terrorist attack in Bern. It was mandatory that your brother left immediately to help with evacuation and investigation." one soldier approached her, his uniform ranking him as the captain of the group.

Liechtenstein's eyebrows furrowed. She gave no immediate reaction to the captain, save for a slight nod. Frau Kirsch locked arms with her and led her to the living room to sit down. Something didn't feel right to Liechtenstein. She thought of how the older countries looked days and weeks after attacks on their countries. Her thoughts shifted to how Russia had looked in particular. The usually smiling country had been attempting to hide his grimace all throughout the meeting and the blood from his injury had begun to seep through his button-up as the meeting ended. Liechtenstein tied her hair back in a loose bun, as it felt uncomfortable against the back of her neck. She knew Vash would not be in a very good state after suffering such an injury. A thought occurred to her. Vash had just left when she'd woken up, so he must have been asleep when the attack occurred.

Before Frau Kirsch could question her actions, she quickly left the room and headed upstairs. A guard stood at the door of Vash's bedroom, but did not make any attempt at stopping her from entering. She opened the door and nearly fainted when the smell of blood hit her. She turned on the light and saw a rather large puddle of blood stained into the carpet in front of her. Shaking, she stepped around it and followed the smears and drips of blood to the bed, where she saw more blood staining the sheets and pillows. It was enough blood for a medium-sized animal.

She headed down the stairs and inquired the captain about her brother as calmly as she could manage. The captain looked completely unfazed. He explained that Switzerland had been attacked in his sleep. They had told Liechtenstein the truth, save for the fact that there had been four bombings instead of one and her brother was bleeding badly as he left. Liechtenstein's anger faded and she frowned deeply, placing a palm on her forehead in frustration. Her chest still felt heavy with anxiety. Something still didn't feel right.

As Liechtenstein headed to the living room to apologize to Frau Kirsch for running out, another wave of anxiety hit her and suddenly she felt dizzy. She stumbled into the room and her knees hit the carpeted flood. She tried to breathe, but her heart was racing. She couldn't hear anything except her own rapid breathing, but saw boots in front of her and two soldiers standing over her, talking to each other. Before she could say anything to them, a red-hot pain ripped through her shoulder and she had to bite her lip, a scream in her throat. She could feel the warmth of blood through her military jacket and saw the red overtaking the white of her nightgown. She fell over onto her side and cringed in pain. Soft, cold hands touched her face, soothing her, and she looked up to see Frau Kirsch calmly looking down at her. The older woman had the strength of two men and pulled her up as she cried out in pain. She sat Liechtenstein on the sofa and she leaned back, panting. The pain was throbbing, but her body was numbing to it.

Frau Kirsch called two soldiers into the room and asked that they fetch their captain. Neither looked particularly concerned. Liechtenstein felt like her entire body was on fire and she began to sweat, her head rolling back against the sofa. The older woman frowned at her. "The pain will pass temporarily. Don't panic too much, the bleeding will stop soon. This is your first serious wound as a country. You will not help by panicking over it."

Her words did nothing to calm Liechtenstein. She shakily stood up, despite Frau Kirsch's protests, and left the room, the older woman trailing after her. She found the captain surrounded by four of his men, a cell phone against his ear. He hung it up as she entered the room and she attempted to keep her composure. "Captain, I'm afraid I've been hit."

Her dry humor seemed neither to amuse him or annoy him. Without changing his expression, he waved a hand towards the door and two soldiers took Liechtenstein by the elbows and wordlessly led her out of the house. She bit back any questions she had, as she expected this was just protocol when a bombing occurred. The pain in her shoulder subsided temporarily to a throbbing stab. The blood on her nightgown was already beginning to dry. She'd never known how major wounds on a country worked before, but Vash had mentioned once that countries are able to heal extraordinarily faster than any normal human beings.

She saw a military truck parked on the side of the house, a lone soldier inside. He was smoking a cigarette. She hadn't seen this soldier before, perhaps he was stationed outside. He adjusted his cap and started the car when he saw them approach. This time she spoke up. "Are we going to see Vash?"

"No. In the event of a terrorist attack, we are by law obligated to take you to your capital." Liechtenstein grimaced when the two soldiers helped her into the truck, sitting on each side of her. The captain approached and knocked on the driver's window as another soldier climbed into the passenger seat, a rifle in hand.

The driver and the captain never spoke to each other, only made small hand gestures that could easily be missed. The driver nodded and drove onto the dirt path that led to the main road. The main road had a village about 30 minutes in that was built right around it and as they began to approach it, Liechtenstein began to feel dizzy, her wound opening up again. She groaned and nearly fell forward, before roughly being caught by the soldier to her right. She gripped his arm and begged the driver to stop in German. He ignored her and she couldn't sum up the energy to speak again. Her vision became blurry and she groaned again, clutching her shoulder. The soldier to her left began speaking rapidly in what she realized to be English. She felt the soldier to her right punch him hard in the shoulder and the two began yelling at each other. She covered her ears with her hands and bent over, moaning in pain. She was in no shape to even attempt at translating their English in her head.

The driver suddenly stepped on the brake, the car turning slightly as it slid to a stop. It was almost dawn. The soldiers ceased fighting and the soldier in the passenger seat opened what seemed to be a ringing cell phone. In all the noise, the ringing had been drowned out. The passenger wordlessly hung up and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. The driver raised an eyebrow and the soldier to her left opened the door and pulled her out with him roughly.

The smell of blood was making her dizzy and her mind was beginning to not register where she was. She nearly fell out of the car, her hands catching her on the asphalt. Liechtenstein pushed herself up and walked a little away from the car to look at her surroundings. The soldier who had pulled her out began arguing with the driver. _Funny, she didn't remember this town._ Something still didn't feel right. Her eyes widened as the choking feeling returned and she stumbled away, falling to her hands and knees. The car behind her was now much further away than she remembered. She looked up at the building near her and saw a light turn on in the window on the second floor of the small house.

Behind her, the driver exited the vehicle and began talking on the passenger's cell phone. Her brows furrowed and she shakily stood up and turned to him. Her heart raced again and she saw the soldier walking slowly toward her, speaking English into his cell phone. Every fiber of her being knew that she was in danger and her instincts were to run, but she was frozen in fear and the driver came closer, a smirk on his stubbled face.

"General, it looks like our friends in the capital got a little ahead of schedule. I warned you not to hire these mercenaries to do the work of soldiers. There's no possibility of entering the capital now. Our only option was to drive off into some sleepy old village." the solider kicked a rock absently a rifle swinging with each step in his hand as he walked towards her. "Hmm, what do you think I should do with this old thing? It's no use to us now." he briefly looked at the car. Liechtenstein couldn't hear the response through the phone, but she saw the soldier smile and the instinct to run over took her and she backed up a few steps, the adrenaline being the only thing that kept her standing. She couldn't help but think of her brother and what he'd do. The soldier raised his gun not at her, but the car. The other soldiers were still in the car, arguing. They never had a chance to see their comrade before he fired a single shot at the explosives in the trunk of the car, causing a fairly large explosion. He then turned his gun to Liechtenstein, but she had begun running just as he turned away from her. He frowned and sauntered into the woods, still talking on his cell phone as the buildings near the car began to crumble and screaming was heard as the fire overtook the village.

Just a minute earlier, Liechtenstein was running as fast as her feet would take her. Right as she was about to let her resolve melt and begin crying, she heard a deafening explosion behind her and tripped onto the now forest floor as another scar ripped open next to the bleeding one on her shoulder. A scream ripped from her throat, but was drowned out by the explosion. She thought of her brother once more and forced herself to stand and start running again. This time, she was much slower, but she kept on, the forest behind her beginning to catch fire and smoke filled the air.

She didn't know how long she'd been running, but the sky was lightening with morning come as her legs finally gave up and she fell onto the ground, turning over to face up at the sky. The morning rain hit her face and soaked her bloody clothes. A mile away from her, the forest fires began to fade as the rain poured harder.

After some time, she heard footsteps and saw the soldier who had driven her to the village and some other unknown man who was dressed in civilian clothing approach her. Her senses were failing her and she couldn't comprehend what they were saying. As the world around her faded to darkness and all she could sense was the smell of her own blood, she thought of that lit window on the second floor of that small house and how more than likely it would never be lit up again.

The camp was full of hundreds of dirty men bathing in the rains that had lasted all morning and afternoon and tens of exhausted women, some who tended to the bleeding prisoners. A group of men dressed in Swiss army uniforms surrounded a campfire and smoked cigarettes as they planned their next attack. Imagine their surprise when they see a lone, silver-haired man standing at the top of the hill that shielded them from the road along with the trees.

He tossed a bloody and bruised soldier to the men around the campfire's feet. They took one look at him and knew that he didn't spare a detail. This particular man happened to be the captain of the group who had invaded Liechtenstein's home and held Vash down at gunpoint, threatening to shoot his poor sister if he so much as moved before holding him prisoner and deceiving his sister.

The group around the campfire stood immediately and before one could draw his weapon, a bullet came from somewhere behind Russia and into the man's skull. He fell down in a bloody heap and his companions were both angry and afraid.

Russia looked up at the trees that surrounded the terrorist army, a dark look on his face. "Show no mercy."

The rebel army had chosen to fight instead of submit and were properly annihilated by the Russian soldiers hidden in the trees. Russia watched on as his soldiers freed the political prisoners from their bindings and gave them water. He sighed, relishing in the feeling of an easy win. Of course, this army had the arsenal and manpower to fight any average army, but they certainly weren't prepared for a Russian invasion of their camp. This reminded him of the sack of Berlin in 1945, though he'd say this was certainly much easier.

The prisoners were from many different countries and Russia observed their status by their clothing. He would have to call a meeting soon in order to sort this political mess out. It seems to diminish a country's ability to fight much more when many of its major leaders are held as prisoners. _So much for not negotiating with terrorists._

Further in the back of the camp, two very unlikely prisoners were held. Neither was conscious. He recognized them as Switzerland and Liechtenstein. Russia clasped his hands and pressed two fingers to his mouth in thought. He couldn't tell who was in worse shape, for both were covered in dried blood. Medics from his army helped carry them into trucks and Russia watched as they began working on their wounds.

A general approached him, asking in Russian what the next step would be.

Russia removed his uniform cap and replied to his general. "Gather the troops, take half of them home, leave half with me. We shall be going to Vaduz. Effective immediately."

The general nodded and began ordering groups of troops to gather into certain trucks. Russia stared out at the ruins of the terrorist camp, now littered in bodies. He did his best to prove himself not a cruel man, but any country worth surviving knew of his mercilessness in war. There would be no fake smiles and feigned innocence today. He could be Ivan tomorrow, but today he was Russia and these rebels and their kind mistook him for someone to mess with. The scar that they had gave him was nothing compared to what he did to them. He took one last look at the destruction before stepping into the passenger seat of a truck, leaving the field of bodies to the animals.

The truck shook as it drove across the dirt road. Russia looked solemnly out the window, deep in thought. The other soldiers in the truck remained quiet and fearful. Though not necessarily appreciative of this, he was certainly used to the eerie silence.

Only Putin questioned his actions. Rather, only Putin dared to question his actions. The other countries could call him Russia's boss all they wanted, that did not change that it was Russia that ruled and made the decisions. His anger flared at the defiance, but he kept his composure and Putin eventually gave in, never receiving an answer. Shoigu and Gerasimov only nodded and asked him what he needed. Russia felt entitled to keep his reasons to himself. After all, these rebels had dared attack him and his people. He'd go to war for that alone. However, this was much more politically complicated and he could only hope that he would be able to convince the little Liechtenstein to not sick her brother on him, though Russia only stepped foot into her territory and not anywhere near Switzerland.

Nevertheless, this entire thing was beneficial to him in many ways. He satisfied an old urge, took revenge on the scum that dared attack him, and in the eyes of the others, saved two countries in one fell swoop. Furthermore, he didn't lose one soldier in the entire process. Russia opened the car door as the sun began to set. The mountains that surrounded him touched the sky in a shock of white and orange.

Yes, he could certainly get comfortable and used to this lovely Germanic countryside.

* * *

To be continued.

Now we have the questionable motivation and morals come into play! I understand it seems a little anti-climatic that the main antagonist was destroyed quickly in the second chapter of the story, but please keep in mind that this story does not focus on the rebellion conflict, but rather the mental, physical, and emotional after-effects of the conflict and the relationship between Russia and Liechtenstein.

Please review, I'd love to know what you think! Xx

-MooseCanoe


	3. An Arrangement

**Title: Cold Masks**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Inspiration: "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood**

**Pairing: RussiaxLiechtenstein**

**Rating: M for graphic violence, language, and sexuality**

* * *

An Arrangement

Ukraine strolled lightly down the hallway, carrying a woven basket filled with clean bandages. She tenderly turned the door handle and entered the silent bedroom. Setting her basket down on a table, she opened the curtains slightly to let some sunlight in. She peered out at the city, watching as its citizens rushed about, repairing the damage caused by the bombings. Whole buildings near Liechtenstein's home were destroyed and there were sirens in the distance. Ukraine frowned at the scene and proceeded to close the curtain when she heard a soft click behind her break the silence.

Quickly, she turned to see the barrel of a rifle aimed directly at her face. Too frightened to speak, she backed against the wall in terror. Clearly the girl was not in a calm state. Ukraine cursed herself for letting her guard down. She was now in a very intense situation. "Liechtenstein, please-"

"You are very wrong to think I will not shoot you for trespassing." The younger country lowered her rifle slightly, but Ukraine still sensed the full danger. She refrained from screaming for help, as she noticed the lack of deadly tone in Liechtenstein's voice. She never really interacted with Liechtenstein before, but she knew that she lacked the blood thirst for shooting another country in the face.

"Liechtenstein, please, they will hear you..." Ukraine trailed off when she heard the heavy footsteps approach the door and a Russian soldier peered inside to check up on things. Before Ukraine could tell him otherwise, he raised his weapon at Liechtenstein and ordered her to drop the weapon. His voice was loud enough to attract a few more soldiers into the room and Liechtenstein promptly dropped the weapon. They were speaking rapidly to her and to Ukraine as more soldiers entered and Liechtenstein turned to Ukraine, looking like she just realized where she was. Liechtenstein seemed to suddenly notice the bandages on her shoulder and chest that were just visible beneath the white shirt that Ukraine had dressed her in.

Panic overtook the younger country and she combed a hand through her hair, visibly shaking. She looked at the soldiers around her and bolted for the door. On orders from Russia, the soldiers did not move to stop her, but immediately checked that Ukraine was alright.

Ukraine ignored them, concerned more for the traumatized and injured girl. She was not allowed under order of her boss to interact with Russia, but under extenuating circumstances she agreed to help him out with tending to Liechtenstein's wounds, something only another country could do and, understandably, he wouldn't dare ask Belarus for such a favor. Ukraine rushed out of the bedroom, the soldiers trailing behind.

Liechtenstein stumbled down the hallway, the mix of confusion and panic overtaking her. She saw so many faces, all in uniform and none familiar. Her stomach hurt with anxiety and all she could think of is that she had to get outside and out of this house, because she was _suffocating_.

The uniformed men and women stood aside, none speaking or touching her. She gripped onto the wall for support and ran down the stairs as fast as she could. It was a miracle that she hadn't fallen. She gripped the door handle and flung it open, not bothering to close it when she stumbled outside.

At first she only heard sirens. Then she saw the smoke in the air and the destroyed buildings. She didn't understand. The right side of her chest and shoulder burned and her mouth was dry. Finally, a civilian acknowledged her presence and she flinched when he attempted to touch her arm. A woman approached her and gave her a concerned look. They were all speaking to her, but she couldn't hear them. Her mind was too busy trying to understand what went wrong, why anyone would attack her when she was neutral.

Her brother had promised her that nobody would ever hurt her again and yet there she was. She must have walked for a few hundred years from her home and into the city when these civilians found her on the sidewalk. They looked dirty and unhappy, but she imaged that she must look a wreck to them. After attempting to talk to her again, the man called another unfamiliar soldier over. He gave her a strange look and called in someone on his walkie-talkie.

Liechtenstein's head cleared up a little more when she remembered the terrorist attacks and the little village and the strange soldier who spoke in English and blew up his comrades. The woman had her hand on Liechtenstein's shoulder and the man looked completely puzzled. Liechtenstein stared at the soldier and turned to the man, speaking for the first time in a broken voice.

"I don't have a military."

"Fraulein," the man gestured towards the uniformed men roaming the streets, "these are Russian soldiers."

"Russ..." Liechtenstein trailed off, completely taken off guard. "What?" _Why were there Russian soldiers here?_

Behind her, she heard someone calling her name. She turned to see Vash approaching her, his arms bruised and his collarbone visibly bandaged beneath his unbuttoned coat. Liechtenstein felt a rush of relief and panic as he placed a bruised hand on her face.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know. I don't..." she looked away from him and at the destruction. "Bruder, what has happened to me?"

Vash feebly took her hand and led her back to the house. She noticed he was limping. _Four bombings, they said._ She felt like her entire world was destroyed and she'd only been hit by two. She couldn't imagine what Vash was going through. She remembered the Swiss soldiers and the puddle of blood. When they were in front of her house, she asked what happened to him.

"That doesn't matter." he looked away from her. Liechtenstein knew he brother enough to leave the matter alone. They were different in their methods of coping.

For having been attacking so recently, Liechtenstein felt rather fine aside from the physical pain, slight anxiety, and hazy memory. Her brother, on the other hand, would simply refuse to talk about it more than likely for the rest of eternity. "Lili, you need to listen to me carefully. These soldiers are occupying your lands and they're not leaving. I've tried everything without breaking my neutrality boundary."

"The soldiers...the Russian soldiers. What does this mean? Is..."

"Yes." Switzerland took her hand in his, a little too tightly. "He is here."

* * *

Russia sat on the hood of the military jeep, a flask in his gloved hands. He studied its metallic surface with only slight interest. "What are you saying?"

"Reports are coming in that there were two more bombings this morning. One in Czechoslovakia and the other in Bulgaria." The young soldier shook violently while in his presence.

Russia slid to the ground, his heavy boots sinking in the mud. He placed the flask back in his coat pocket and crossed his arms, his face remaining blank. "It seems the footwork rebels were camped here in the neutral lands, infiltrating the Swiss army at an alarming rate, but they are more than soldiers. There will be more bombings to come. We may have destroyed the commanders and the heart of the rebels, but we did nothing to stop their pawns from doing their jobs. You may go, now."

The soldier left with one final salute. Russia opened the passenger-side door of the military jeep and commanded the driver to head to Liechtenstein's home. He would need to speak to the young country about his occupying her hands. Hopefully, he would reach her conscious before her brother did. The last thing he needed was to look like he was going to take over some poor neutral country. He couldn't blame Switzerland for how he reacted.

/

Switzerland assaulted one of his soldiers, stealing their gun and holding three more hostage before he was brought to Russia. It was admirable, to see someone so versatile with weapons, but Russia kept a stern face when sitting across from the very angry young man.

"What nerve have you to storm into our country?"

Russia smiled at that. A warning smile. "You should be thanking me for saving you and your little sister."

Vash had the gall to look offended. "What are your intentions here? We are saved, yes thank you _so kindly_. Now take your soldiers and leave."

Russia leaned back on the chair, studying the wall above Switzerland's head. "Last I recall, I was occupying Liechtenstein and not Switzerland. Seeing as I've cleared your precious forests of rebel vermin, I don't see why you're so hostile towards me."

Switzerland leaned forward in his seat, a dark look on his face, repeating his previous question. "What are your intentions here?"

"There are large forests and tall mountains in Liechtenstein, plenty of land to hide out in. These rats took it upon themselves to destroy my largest train station. I was forced to ride a plane home." Russia stood up and walked towards the window overlooking the city. "I much prefer riding the train. You know enough of history to understand that anyone who dares shed my blood will be slaughtered mercilessly." Russia's smile faded, his temper seeping through his facade. After a silent pause, he faced the glowering Switzerland. "When your sister becomes conscious, I will speak with her. Until I have her say to leave, I will not take orders from the likes of you." With that he had his soldiers lead Switzerland out. He grudgingly obliged.

_And even if she begs me to leave, I will remain here until every last rebel is destroyed. _

/

The car braked to a stop in front of the beautiful home nestled in the Germanic countryside. Russia stepped out, entering the home briskly. A soldier opened the door for him and guided him to the living room, where an emotionally disheveled Liechtenstein sat on a chair, now dressed in a white sundress. When he sat across from her as he had done previously with Switzerland, he smiled. _She is afraid of me._ This was beneficial to him, for he always got what he wanted by some means or another. Fear was the most successful tactic, in Russia's experience.

The silence was broken by Switzerland entering the room. He stood by the wall, ever the watchful brother. Russia did nothing to remove him from the room. Liechtenstein stared at her hands, placed elegantly in her lap. He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped up, though she didn't look in his eyes.

As he spoke, her gaze turned to the window beside her. "I'm thinking you would like to know what has happened to you."

"I...I believe I was attacked." She seemed to struggle to find her voice.

Russia's patience was running short. "You know well that you were attacked. By a rebel group with no name and as of my arrival here, no leader. Though we don't know that for sure. I've been in contact with Germany and England and they've informed me that their end goal is to create a pure chaos that will engulf every nation, the finale being another World War. They seem to be some anarchist and/or anti-Capitalist rebellion group consisting of individuals from nearly every country. We may never know fully what they hoped to achieve, as they have been largely destroyed. You got lucky, young Liechtenstein. The men that you trusted far too easily consisted of mostly hired mercenaries associating with the group for money and not the actual cause."

If Liechtenstein caught the scrutiny in his words, she did not show it. "Of all places in the world, why me? Why here?"

"You're one of the richest countries in the world. If you think that this fact alone wouldn't inspire someone to come clawing down your walls, then you know nothing of the world."

"You watch your words." Switzerland snapped, but Russia ignored him. _If he speaks again, I'll have him thrown out.  
_He was in no mood to deal with this foolishness, but it would be much prettier if he could scare her into allowing him to stay rather than occupying her by force. Liechtenstein remained calm, still looking out the window. She took the insults with stride, at least.

"Why would you help me?" she nearly whispered.

"I wouldn't." Russia responded with a dark smirk.

Finally, she turned to him, green eyes looking straight at him. "Thank you." Her eyes were cool and calculating and Russia was caught completely off guard, his smirk gone. _She knows I'm out for bloodshed, searching her forests. And she knows I will find what I am hunting for._

She smiled at him, something nobody ever did. After standing politely, she held out her hand to him. "Mr. Russia, you are welcome to stay as long as you would like. Feel free to camp your soldiers and stay as a guest in my home."

Hesitantly, he shook her hand, remaining silent. He was still seated as she took her brother by the arm and left the room. Switzerland looked half in shock. A soldier approached Russia, asking his next command.

"Make camp, we're going to hunt down rats for miss Liechtenstein." Russia replied, still staring at the doorway where she had left. Liechtenstein was foolish and innocent, but she knew a surefire chance to survive when she saw it. She probably already knew he wouldn't take no for an answer as well.

It was a mutual deal, he would get to mow down the rebels and she would have protection that he brother couldn't provide without breaking neutrality. And she knew this, too.

_She is very clever._ Russia smiled as he exited the house and back into his military jeep, his handy lead pipe forgotten underneath the seat for the time being.

* * *

To be continued.

After some thought, I've decided to make this slightly more Russia-centric. Next up, we see how things go with this new found arrangement between Russia and Liechtenstein and some of the psychological affects of the terrorist attacks, both good and bad.

Please review, Each review inspires me to get the next chapter out faster! Xx

-MooseCanoe


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